Out of the Crucible

by Marian Wells

  Amy swallowed the lump in her throat, flicked the reins, and tried to forget the glory of that one moment of ownership when she thought the piano had truly been hers. Impatiently, she urged the horse into a trot.

  Halfway down the road Amy saw the Withrops’ wagon just in front of her. With the problem of the piano and the jumble of emotions fighting through her, Amy looked at her neighbors with a sinking heart. “Least of all,” she murmured, “do I want to be pressed by Lettie’s questions.”

  For a moment she held back on the reins and then nodded. “But maybe Hank can answer a question for me.” She pulled even and hailed them.

  Hank stopped the team. Lettie beamed at her as Hank said, “Morning, Missus. Sorry you’ve missed your man. ’Spect he’ll be back pretty soon.”

  She nodded. “I might just take the stage down to Denver City and meet him there. Hope those hens are still producing for you. Mr. Withrop, I have a question. Just before we left, Lettie showed me a handbill you’d picked up at the mines. She mentioned there was some activity around the mines, with someone trying to raise money and arms for the Confederate cause. Is it still going on?”

  His eyebrows lifted in a surprised arc. “Well, I didn’t think a parson’s wife would be interested in that. No. Seems the fellows around the mines kinda gave the gentleman in question a push in the right direction. I don’t think they were too riled, though. It’s hard to regard a dandy like that as being serious. Some were saying they thought he was more interested in padding his own pockets, anyway. I’ll tell you that didn’t set too well with the fellows.”

  Amy nodded. “I guess that answers my question. Thank you.”

  “Where are you going now?” Lettie asked.

  Amy hesitated and then said, “Just a bit of business. When I have more time, I’ll tell you about it. Good day.”

  By noon the piano had been shifted from the Gerrett cabin to the little log church up the hill. Amy offered the drayman a handful of coins, but he shook his head. “My contribution to the church, seeing’s I can’t afford to give a fancy piano.”

  There was curiosity in his eyes and Amy said, “Well, come hear the music on the Sabbath.”

  “You kin play the thing? My missus will like that.” He nodded his way back to the cart, and Amy watched him glance at the church again. With a wave, she walked back into the church.

  Her intention had been to only touch the keys, but when she finally looked up, she found the noontime sun had slipped westward. She looked around and sighed, “Oh my, the day’s almost gone—but what a joy!”

  Getting to her feet, she noticed the sinking sun had laid a pattern of light on the piano. With her arms akimbo, she studied the piano and murmured, “That’ll never do. Up here the sun’ll ruin the finish in no time. Guess I can give a shove, at least enough to get the sun off it.”

  Amy put her shoulder to the piano and pushed. She stepped back and looked at its bulk and tried again. This time she felt it teeter slightly on the uneven floor. “Come on, you beautiful thing, just move a bit,” she coaxed. She pushed again.

  Now panting with exertion, she braced her feet and strained. “Oh!” The pain shot across her back and she dropped to the stool and leaned against the piano. For a moment the room dipped and swayed around her. She moaned and tried to cling to the slippery surface of the piano.

  “Ma’am! You’re ill?”

  Without looking up, Amy whispered, “I’ll be fine in a minute. Pushing the piano made it all come back. The sickness.”

  The woman’s hand was warm on her back and finally Amy was able to sit up. “My back still hurts.” She straightened and looked up; then she blinked. “Crystal Thomas—the Lord sent you for certain.”

  There was an amused smile on the woman’s face. “I was riding past when I heard the music. Actually, I was clear down the gulch. Just couldn’t help wondering about the music, though. Pretty nice piano for a church like this,” she murmured, looking around the room before turning back to Amy. “And you are a good pianist. Didn’t expect that of a pastor’s wife, especially a pastor in the Methodist Episcopal Church. Changed their view a little?”

  Amy nodded, but couldn’t find strength to mention the piano at the church in Denver City. She continued to rest against the piano. As Crystal talked, Amy became aware of her slight accent. It reminded her of the last time she had seen the woman.

  The pain stabbed and Amy straightened with a moan. “Oh, Crystal, I’m afraid. Do you suppose pushing the piano would hurt the baby? I didn’t think.”

  The woman bent over Amy. “Baby? Might be. How far along are you?”

  Amy shook her head. “I don’t know about such things. But Mother said I was most certainly pregnant.”

  Crystal was quiet for a moment. She sighed and said, “Well, if you can walk, I think we’d better get you home and to bed. A day or so will settle it for good or bad. Maybe I’d best go after your husband.”

  “Daniel is gone.”

  Crystal pondered for a moment. “Then let’s start walking.”

  A wave of nausea swept over Amy as she got to her feet. Crystal slipped her arm around her. In a few minutes Amy was able to lift her head. “I’m feeling better; let’s go,” she murmured, taking a step forward.

  After Crystal had Amy settled in her own bed, she built up the fire and casually said, “Guess I’ll stick around for a time. I’m used to this. There’s a saw-bones down the hill, but right now I think I’ll do you more good.”

  “You think I’m going to lose my baby?”

  “Like I said, we’ll know soon.”

  Crystal stayed the night with Amy, sleeping beside her on the bed. In the morning she said, “I think you’ll make it fine. Since the pain in your back’s letting up, I’m taking that as a good sign. Mostly I think you just pulled muscles, and the pain gave you the nausea.”

  She added, “I’ll stay awhile if you want.” Her mouth twisted in a wry smile. “I’ve nothing else to do right now.” Amy looked at her and wondered. Today Crystal’s gown was unadorned cotton. After breakfast she said, “You’ve big questions in your eyes, Amy. Let’s clear the air. What do you want to ask?”

  “I’m wondering what’s been happening to you. When I left Buckskin Joe, you were still living with the Tabors. What happened?”

  “The smallpox. When the Tabors moved into Denver City, they took me along. I stayed there after they returned to Buckskin Joe.” The expression in her eyes was open and honest as she went on. “I worked at the hotel Charley started. Now I’m up here.”

  “What have you been doing?”

  Crystal didn’t answer. Her eyes frankly appraised Amy.

  Finally Amy answered, “I suppose I shouldn’t pry. But you invited me to clear the air.”

  In a moment she took up the subject again. She had been watching Crystal as she moved about the cabin. There were the same tidy, efficient motions that had first attracted Amy’s attention as she watched the Creole work in Augusta’s kitchen. “You know what I remember most about that time?”

  Crystal quirked an eyebrow. Amy hesitated and then pushed. “Seeing you at the burying ground, at Lizzie’s funeral. You were singing. Your head was tipped back, and it was like sunshine was coming out of your face. You know, Crystal, I kept that in my mind. Somehow it made all the religion I’d been seeing suddenly come across all shabby.”

  Crystal continued to work around the room. After she created order from Amy’s chaos, she mixed bread and used the broom on the floor.

  Amy watched and thought about the Crystal in Buckskin. The scene she had recalled brought back the uneasy questions. Now she was left wishing for answers, as if putting words to the scene had stripped her down to a bleakness of soul she didn’t know she had. Were these the feelings Father Dyer had referred to when he talked about her fears? Finally she asked, “Why this now?”

  Crystal looked at her and her eyes narrowed. “I ’spect you’ve got things hidden in your life. Want I should dig at them?”

 
Amy sat up in bed. She snapped, “Crystal, you’re talking like you did in Buckskin Joe—that is, when we were around to listen to you. Since I’ve been here, my friend Lettie and I have heard you speaking a foreign language. Yesterday and today, you’ve let it slip. When you forgot to be careful, I heard the same sounds in your words. Who are you? Where did you come from?”

  The quick look Crystal threw at Amy was dark and heavy with hidden secrets. Her voice was light. “You already had it figured out. Fancy clothes, fancy lady. I saw it in your eyes.”

  “I wasn’t judging, but I was disappointed,” she said slowly. “Crystal, don’t you see? If you can fall that far, what is going to happen to me? I’m afraid.”

  “Mon ami!” The words bursting from Crystal were followed by a sharp exclamation.

  She turned, hesitated, and then came slowly to Amy. Carefully she said, “I want to help you, but you mustn’t dig at me. When you can accept me as I am, then we can be friends.”

  Amy spoke slowly and deliberately. “That first time I saw you here, there was a man with you—a gentleman. It took me a long time to figure out who he was. But now I know. I saw you with Lucas Tristram, didn’t I?”

  Crystal’s back straightened, and she turned a smile on Amy. “Yes, you did. What is so alarming about that? Mr. Tristram is an old friend. I might ask how you made your acquaintance with him.”

  “He was in Central City when I lived there.” Watching Crystal’s face, Amy added, “Mr. Tristram presented the piano to the church.” Crystal’s eyebrows raised.

  “But you knew him before coming to Colorado Territory,” Amy guessed. The woman’s dusky features froze, as if cut from ice.

  “Yes, but does that make a difference? I could remind you that you are prying. Amy, it is you I want to discuss now.”

  “Am I going to lose my baby?” The horror was back and Amy raised herself to look up at Crystal.

  “No. You are not. Stop worrying. I’m sure it was just a pulled muscle. Now—” She came to sit on the edge of the bed. “Amy, does it matter whether I know Lucas? What does that have to do with your problem?”

  “Can’t you see? You were dressed like a fancy lady, leaning on the arm of a man I know to be—well, less than honorable.”

  For a moment Crystal narrowed her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was mild and nearly amused. “Tell me why you said that.”

  Amy rejected all her mental images of Lucas in Central City and said, “We saw him in Santa Fe, for one thing. It was in the plaza and the place was filled with Confederate soldiers. Why was Lucas there?”

  For a moment Crystal was startled. Then the expression in her eyes sharpened and became veiled by something Amy couldn’t understand. Slowly she said, “Amy, I don’t keep track of the man. But I do think you ought to keep this information to yourself. At least for the time being.”

  She got to her feet and paced the room. Suddenly she came back to the bed and grasped Amy’s arm. “Do you understand? I think it is important that you say nothing about this. Can you trust me?” She paused and then added, “The information could be dangerous to you.”

  The next words tripped out of Amy, and she regretted the mocking statement even as she replied, “You’re threatening me. I’d guess you either love Lucas or hate him.” Crystal’s face tightened into an unreadable mask as Amy whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  “And you can’t accept the questions I won’t answer. All right, Amy, I’ll tell you. It isn’t love. I’ve been married to a wonderful man. But I watched that man warped, twisted into a pawn. I’ll tell you no more about the subject. You’ve guessed I’m from the South. What does that spell to you?”

  “Rebel, Confederate. That you have no business being here, trying to—” She drew a breath and realized she was only guessing. “But you’re…not white. Crystal, what do you really hold dear?”

  “I believe mankind was created to be equal and free, and we’re not. None of us, not even the pawns. They think they are free and strong. They think they own their minds. But they have been used, just as surely as they are using us.”

  Amy tried to puzzle out the strange words. She guessed, “That means you are against slavery. That means—Crystal, what were you doing with Lucas?”

  Crystal continued to study Amy’s face. Her eyes became sad as if she were seeing something twisted and ugly moving between them. Amy sensed it. She knew that no matter how much she denied it, Crystal’s words had created more problems than they solved. And they also confirmed what Amy had guessed.

  Crystal got to her feet. “I suppose I might as well go on home. Your Daniel will be back soon. You’re past danger.” She hesitated. The dark expression was still there.

  Finally she smiled at Amy. Arching her eyebrows she said, “Just like you think, huh? You think I’m owned by Tristram? You think ah’m one of the massa’s other chill’n, bought and paid for. Amy, it don’t matter what you think, about me or my morals. But one thing I’ll tell you. We’re proud people; we don’t like being owned like cattle.”

  “That’s ugly, Crystal. You’re trying to shut me up, digging out that talk so I won’t see the real you. I’m not a baby. You’re raising a dust storm so I can’t see. Why? I’m not telling you how to live. Not even judging. Right now I’m confused.” The two studied each other.

  Amy turned her head on the pillow and tried to sort through the jumble of feelings. She said, almost to herself, “In a few days my heart will be breaking over all this, and it won’t be because of what I’m thinking.”

  She turned back to the woman. “See, Crystal, I am growing up. I’m worrying about you. For some reason, I can’t get you out of my mind, and this started in Buckskin Joe. Daniel says we hadn’t ought to be pushing religion, but instead we should be pointing to Jesus. Crystal, you’ll still be having to face Jesus one of these days.”

  Crystal’s voice was light as she walked to the door. “And, dear parson’s wife, you are a self-righteous prig.”

  By the next day Amy felt well enough to be out of bed. She baked a loaf of bread and began to wish Daniel would forget the spring conference and just come home.

  On the second day, Amy determined she would waste no more time or tears fussing over Crystal. But the scorn in the woman’s eyes and voice still stung Amy. “Self-righteous prig,” Amy said slowly. As she stared at the door, she was thinking of the velvet frock and the prayer she had prayed. There are two things I must do. I must see Lucas Tristram and find Daniel. Unless Lucas can give me a better answer than I can think of right now, he must take the piano back.

  On the third day, Amy began to pack her valise. Lettie came to call that afternoon.

  When Amy opened the door she said, “You’ve come just in time to bid me goodbye.”

  “Where you off to now?”

  “I’ve decided to take the stage into Denver. I haven’t seen my husband for over a month, so I’ll just go surprise him.”

  Lettie offered, “Hank and I’ll give you a ride down to the stage stop.”

  “The stage leaves at two this afternoon. I’ll be ready.”

  Amy nearly missed the Denver stagecoach. It was pulling away from the hotel at the bottom of the gulch as they rode up. Hank shouted while Lettie and Amy waved their arms.

  The driver stopped and climbed down. “Didn’t wait around none. Seems not many are hankering to ride into Denver City this trip. I’ll stow your bag up here.” He took the valise and helped Amy into the stage. She waved at Hank and Lettie, and turned to sit down.

  As she settled into the seat, the one other woman turned. “You!” The word burst out of Amy.

  Crystal’s smile was bitter. “Fancy that. We’ll be stuck with each other for two days of hard riding. Are you feeling able?”

  Amy nodded and leaned back in her corner. “I’m fine now. Sorry to have inconvenienced you.”

  The other passenger, a man, was seated across from them. His head was moving from right to left as they talked. Amy noticed his eyes were getting brighter with
each brittle sentence.

  Crystal looked at him. With a nod of her head, she said, “Might be wondering how the parson’s wife comes to know a fancy lady?” And then her amused grin moved from one to the other.

  Chapter 27

  Amelia walked behind the trading post and approached the livery stable where Matthew had his room. When she spotted him leaning on the corral fence just beyond the stable, she walked quickly toward him.

  “Matthew.” He turned at her approach. Seeing the wary expression in his eyes, Amelia held up the bottle. “I’ve brought my vial of olive oil. Let’s go see if we can rub a little life back into that arm.”

  He moved uneasily and looked embarrassed. “Mrs. Randolph, it isn’t doing badly all on its own.”

  “Stop calling me Mrs. Randolph. We’ve known each other too long by our first names. It seems like—”

  “Hypocrisy?” She nodded and watched his eyes as he struggled. Finally he sighed. “I was tempted to cut out of here.” When she said nothing he continued. “But it seems a dirty trick after all you’ve done when I was helpless. Taking me into your wagon.”

  “The wagon belongs to the Army,” she reminded. “You’ve no obligation if that’s what you want. Eli and I can stay here until he throws the crutches away.”

  “That’s making it hard on you. You know I can’t show bad manners that way.” She couldn’t keep back the grin, and the easy smile slipped away from his face. “You’re amused. Let me guess. Could it be the times you’ve caught me with a display of…bad manners?”

  “Like our last conversation in Pennsylvania. Seems I remember an argument. I should say brawl. But anyway, I remember we had an audience. What was the fellow’s name?”

  She could see he had no intention of answering. She added, “It’s long forgotten; I do remember he was some dandy. But the thing I remember most, Matthew, was his devilish smile. He acted like all the cards were stacked in his favor. At the time that made me very angry. Maybe that’s why I fought to keep you from going.” She paused and then added thoughtfully. “Looking back, I think they were—the cards.” Amelia turned to lean on the corral fence.